


Good Game

by verbaeghe



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Alternating, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 09:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/pseuds/verbaeghe
Summary: Every single person Misha passes in a handshake line says his words to him. It’s exciting at first; he thinks he’s found his soulmate with every person.It becomes less and less exciting over the years, until he’s stopped paying attention completely by the time Windsor wins the Memorial Cup.





	1. Prologue - Misha

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to lecavayay, who is always an amazing gem of a beta! ♥

**_June 25, 2011_ **

 

Misha wakes up excited on his thirteenth birthday. He can’t believe that today is the day he’s finally going to see his words. 

There’s only one thing more important than the day he gets his words, but they probably aren’t going to change for ages.

So.

Misha rolls onto his side, takes a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart before it beats out of his chest, and pulls his forearm into view.

And…

He doesn’t recognize the words. The letters aren’t Cyrillic, so he has no idea what they say.

Misha springs from his bed, thundering down the stairs as he yells for his mama.

 

  
Turns out Misha is going to have to learn English. No one around him really wants to help with it because they’re all too busy being scandalized that his soulmate isn’t Russian.

Whatever, he can play hockey stateside in a few short years and learn then.    

//

**_September 1, 2015_ **

 

English is really hard. Like,  _ so _ hard. The alphabet is dumb and too many of the words can’t be sounded out.

And don’t even get him started on getting anyone to say his last name properly. He gives up on  _ that _ like fifteen seconds after he arrives in Windsor.

On the bright side, he finally finds out what his words are:  _ Good game _

Every single person he passes in a handshake line says the words to him. It’s exciting at first; he thinks he’s found his soulmate with every person.

It becomes less exciting when the whatever number person (he’s lost count) doesn’t respond to him in the umpteenth handshake line.   

He’s stopped paying attention completely by 2017 when his team wins the Memorial Cup.


	2. Tony

**_July 15, 2010_ **

 

Tony knows he’s an awkward looking kid. A little too pointy, too Italian, and his hair is too crazy when he grows it beyond half an inch. It’s part of what makes knowing that he’ll have a soulmate, someone who will love him just because he is, so comforting.

That’s probably why it’s sort of a letdown when his words come in.

_Watch where you're going, bitch ass_

Tony’s mom is beside herself when he shows her the messy script on his arm. She rants and raves to his dad, “Is this supposed to be a joke? How can this be the thing his soulmate says to him? What sort of person would say something like this?” She stops. Turns to Tony.

“We need to go to the store.” She heads for the front door, reaching for her purse.

“Mom, it isn’t that big a deal! The words will change, so--”

“ _Now_ ,” she says, and Tony sighs. Nothing good ever comes from Mom Tone.

 

  
Tony gets a Words Shield and a metric fuck ton of long-sleeved shirts.

And no, he doesn’t want to talk about how funny everyone at school thinks his words are, thanks.

//

**_Tampa Bay Lightning training camp, 2017_ **

 

Tony is a bundle of nerves when the bus comes to a stop on the first day of camp. He isn’t paying the best of attention when he stands, and so he bumps into someone, spilling coffee on them both.

“Watch where you're going, bitch ass,” Mikhail Sergachev snaps at him and Tony almost forgets to speak, this is-- oh, shit. He’s leaving.

“Hey, I’m, um, I’m sorry,” he says, grimacing at how stupid his first words to his soulmate are.

“Yeah, whatever. Just be careful next time,” he grumbles, stalking down the aisle and out of the bus.

Tony stands there dumbfounded until someone pokes him in the back.

“Hey, you gonna stand here all day, or just until we all have to do suicides?” Mitchell Stephens asks.

“Right, sorry,” Tony mutters, heading for the front of the bus.     

 

  
“I met my soulmate earlier,” Tony says to Matty when they’re sitting at their stalls later.

“Did you?” He perks right up, smiles brightly. “Is it one of the guys here? That’s so awesome!”

“Yes, and yes.” Tony frowns. “But maybe not that awesome.”

“What? Why?”

“He didn’t respond to what I said in reply.” Tony sighs and fidgets with some stick tape.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” Matty demands. Tony frowns, but recounts what happened even though it’s super embarrassing.

“Maybe he didn’t register what you said because he was covered in coffee,” Matty suggests, scratching his chin.

Tony traces the letters on his arm. “Or, he thinks that I’m a bitch ass. It’s fine.”

Matty laughs. “That isn’t what he thinks about you, man. And anyway, those words will change eventually.”

It’s a sentiment that Tony has repeated to himself many times over the years, but right now it just seems hollow. “Yeah, sure.”

“Why don’t I just take a peek at his arm for you? I can look at the words, and we can go from there.”

“But when will you see his arm? How?” Tony raises his eyebrows.

“I dunno,” Matty shrugs. “Whenever. Just trust me.”

“Okay,” Tony says slowly, despite not actually trusting that Matty won’t peep in on him in the shower, or something.

 

  
  
“How many words did you say to him?” Matty asks him later.

“I’m not sure.” Tony frowns. “I was so surprised that I sort of just babbled at him. Four or five, I guess.”

“I didn’t see what the words are, but there's two of them.”

Two. Tony wilts. He knows he said more than that. “Oh, god,” he mutters, running his hands into his hair and squeezing. He drops his face between his knees and tries to do breathing exercises, because this means…

He’s an Unrequited Soul and he’s going to have those words on his arm for the rest of his life.

“ _Fuck_ , I should have _known_ that no one would ever love me.” He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, but he did and now Matty is trying to console him.

“No, Tony, I’m sure that it isn't--”

“I don’t think I can talk about this right now, I’m sorry.” Tony stands. He doesn’t want to hear any platitudes right now. “I gotta go warm-up.”

“We...already skated?” Matty says slowly.

He needs to clear his mind, work through all these stupid feelings he has about what he’s just learned. Yeah, the bike will help. “Down, then.”

Matty opens his mouth to say something else, but Tony dashes from the room before he has to hear another platitude.

//

They aren’t in the same group so Tony manages to avoid having any more interactions with Sergachev, despite Matty’s numerous attempts to shove Tony in his general direction.

Right now Tony is on his way to lunch, hungry enough that he’s actually looking forward to the bland catered chicken and pasta. He gets his plate, thanking each person down the line because his mom didn’t raise him to be rude, and slides into the first empty chair he comes to.

He doesn’t concentrate on anything specifically, mostly eating mindlessly...until he hears someone say his name behind him.

“...Cirelli, man?” It’s Ben Thomas, but Tony doesn’t really know him, so--

“I don’t know, what do you mean?” Oh, and that’s Sergachev so there’s no way that Tony isn’t going to listen now.

“I said that he’s kind of weird.” There’s a pause. “You know, he’s always making faces and, like, I dunno. Watching video. Of scrimmages! Who watches video on scrimmages?”

“He does?”

“Yeah, and it’s weird, right?”

“I guess.”

Oh. Good. Nice to know that Tony can add ‘weird’ to ‘bitch ass’ under the list of things his soulmate thinks of him.

Tony throws the rest of his food away and heads back downstairs. He isn’t really feeling all that hungry anymore, and anyway, he has to suit up to skate.  

//

Tony spends the next week or so avoiding Sergachev before the whole thing is rendered moot when he’s sent down to Syracuse.


	3. Misha

**_March 1, 2018_ **

 

That Cirelli kid scores his first goal in his first game...and then pulls his arm away from Misha in the first bump line. Misha thinks it’s weird but lets it go.

But then he’s avoided in the helmet taps at the end. And, it definitely isn’t just him not paying attention, or something, because Cirelli actively pulls away from him and makes a little half-circle around him.   

He does it the next game too.

It’s after he’s avoided after the game against the Panthers that Misha’s starts wondering what he did to Cirelli to deserve this kind of treatment.

He doesn’t have to think on it long before he remembers the first day of camp and how he was a total shithead on the bus. Over a stupid little splash of coffee. He decides to apologize, because they have to be teammates, after all.

Misha finds him hunched over a tablet, going over video of the game. The little concentration crinkle between his eyebrows is kind of cute, but that isn’t why Misha is here.

“Hey, can I talk to you real quick?” Misha doesn’t think he is imagining the way that Cirelli’s shoulders tense before he looks up.

“Um. Sure. What’s up?” he asks, placing the iPad down on the table next to him.

“Can I sit?” Misha vaguely nods at a chair.

“Of course.”

He throws himself down. “What can I call you?”

Cirelli shrugs. “Rocco, Tony. Whatever.”

“Tony.” He offers what he hopes is a kind smile. “Call me Misha.”

“Misha,” Tony repeats quietly. It sounds lovely.  

Misha needs to steady himself. He takes a deep breath through his nose, releases it slowly before he plows forward, “I was sort of a dick to you back at camp and I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” He leans back, hopes he looks relaxed when he adds, “I’m pretty grumpy before I finish my first cup of coffee in the morning.”

Tony smiles at him. It’s soft, kind even. “No, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” His cheeks go a little pink. “I was embarrassed, and so I was sort of avoiding you. Sorry.”

“I understand,” Misha huffs out a little laugh. “So we’re good?”

“Of course. Always,” Tony replies softly. There’s something about him that makes Misha’s stomach turn over. In a good way. He picks the iPad back up. “Hey, can I show you something from the game?”

“Yeah, sure,” Misha scoots in while Tony cues up the video.

//

The team is on the longest home stand that has ever existed in the history of home stands, and Misha finds himself spending a lot of time with Tony. They’re workout buddies. They have dinner together a lot too, but that’s mostly because Misha doesn’t cook and Tony is still staying at the hotel.

And they go over a lot of video together. More video than should be necessary, but Misha finds himself always agreeing whenever Tony brings it up.

He’s fantastic at explaining how he sees the game and applying it to his defensive play, and he really seems to understand what Misha is saying on the rare occasion that he has something to add. Misha isn’t sure why they understand one another so well, but he does know that Tony’s defensive play is impressive.

Tony is also really hot, with the cheekbones and the lips and the, oh, god, the way that his hair tries to curl up at the tips. They’re all things that Misha probably shouldn’t be thinking about, because Tony still has a Words Shield. He probably hasn’t met his soulmate yet, and even if he has...

Misha looks down at his sleeve-covered arm and sighs.

He hates his stupid words.

//

Misha is busy getting himself ready for their first takeoff in what feels like months when Tony drops into the seat next to him.

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you that they said we’ll be roomies.” Misha looks up, and the sun coming through the plane window is highlighting his lashes and making his eyes look almost golden, and--

He’s being ridiculous and Tony is sitting there waiting for a response.

“That’s cool. Gotta warn you, I sometimes snore.” Misha wants to groan, he sounds like such a fucking moron.

“Surprisingly, I don’t snore, but don’t worry about bothering me.” Tony grins at him. “No one can out-snore Matty.”

“Who’s Matty?” Misha asks, a little stab of jealousy pricking at his heart.

“Joseph? He was at camp too?” Tony’s eyebrows are high.

“Oh, right. You guys roomed together?”

“Yeah, in Syracuse and here.” Tony pauses. “Well, until now.”

A silence spread between them, and it should be awkward, but for some reason it isn’t.

“So.” Tony claps his hands onto his thighs, shaking Misha out of his musings. “I’m going to go find somewhere to sit to watch video and leave you be.”

“You can stay here,” Misha says.

“Are you sure?” Tony’s lips tip into a little frown. “I know no one else really likes to watch video as much as I do.”

“Of course I’m sure.” Misha smiles at him and Tony seems to falter for a second. He recovers so quickly that maybe Misha imagined it.

“Awesome.” Tony unzips the backpack at his feet and pulls out an iPad while everyone else around them settles for the flight.

//

Misha wakes up to the scent of coffee brewing. He’s sort of confused for a second as he stretches and rolls onto his back before he remembers that he has a roommate now. He pushes himself up into a sitting position in time to see Tony pulling one of the small room cups from the coffee maker.

“You don’t seem like much of a coffee drinker,” Misha says, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m not, but I heard a rumor that you’re a bit grumpy before your first cup.” Tony finishes up, holds it out. “Two and two, right?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Dunno,” Tony shrugs as he hands it over, smiles. “You enjoy that, I’m going to go shower so you can have some time to yourself.”

Yeah, Misha is totally not going to think about Tony in the shower _at all_ while he drinks his coffee.

 

  
  
Misha is not watching Tony get on the bus when Kuch and Vasy walk up to him.

“What are you staring at, little brother?” Vasy asks with a shit eating grin.

“I’m not staring at anything.” Misha frowns. “And don’t call me little brother”

“You’re my little hockey brother and I will call you that if I want to.” He nudges Kuch with an elbow. “Tell him, Kuch.”

“Tell him what?” Kuch asks.

Vasy huffs. “You are no help. Just go fawn over Pally. Or Johnny.” His grin returns. “Or both.”

“Don’t you need to text your wife or something?” Misha asks Vasy.

“Talked to her earlier. Now, tell me about Rocco.” Vasy pats him on the head for half a second before Misha swats his hand away.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“I don’t beli--”

“Will the three of you get your asses on the bus so we can get to morning skate?” Stammer yells down the steps.

Misha’s never been so glad to be yelled at by his captain.


	4. Tony

**_April 6, 2018_ **

 

Sometimes Tony wishes that Misha was more of a jerk. That the guy who called him a bitch ass was who he really is, because it’s almost torture that Misha is so nice.

He gets why Misha is his soulmate. They mesh together really well on the long flights — playing cards, going over video or whatever else they do to pass the time. And Misha’s voice is soothing. Sometimes when they’re in their hotel room they talk for hours, long into the night. Sometimes he falls asleep to it.

Misha’s voice being the last thing he hears before he drifts off to sleep is the perfect way to end his day.  

And his smile. Damn, his smile is something straight of Tony’s Soulmate Dreams. He’s so--

Tony really needs to stop making it worse for himself.

Right now they’re sitting on the plane on the way up to North Carolina for the last game of the regular season. The drone of the plane is almost soothing while Misha talks about the last movie he saw. It’s something Russian that Tony will never watch, but Misha could be telling him about how he matches his socks and Tony would listen.

“Hey Rocco, you aren’t falling asleep on me here, are you?” Misha asks.

Tony blinks up at him and smiles.“Of course not. What made you think that?”

“Mostly the closed eyes,” Misha replies with a smirk.

“Shut up, jerk.” Tony swats at Misha’s knee.

Misha catches his hand, holds it for a second before his eyes trail down to Tony’s Words Shield. Tony’s heart is suddenly beating in his throat. What if Misha asks about them?

“Have you, um. Have you not met your person yet?”

“Oh.” Tony swallows, forces himself not to yank his hand away from Misha’s. “I have, but our words don’t match.”

“They don’t match?”

“Right? Imagine that, not matching up with me. Not getting to have all of this.” Tony vaguely gestures to himself. He tips his head onto the back of his seat, forces a smile. “No, I know that I’m a little weird and, I’m not, um. Y’know.”

“You aren’t what?”

“I’m not like Louis or Johnny.” Tony shrugs. “Or even Alex, for that matter.”

“You have dark hair just like them, that doesn’t make--”

“I’m not hot, Misha!” Tony hisses. “I’m weird and I’m ugly and I’m not a match with my soulmate.” He yanks his hand away, crosses his arms and slouches down into his chair. “Thanks for making me spell it out,” he mutters, sniffing.

Misha throws his armrest up and pulls Tony into a hug. “Your soulmate is an idiot if they don’t want you,” he mutters into Tony’s hair.

He almost wants to laugh, but then he’d lose this...this moment where it feels like Misha does want him, so Tony just closes his eyes and lets Misha hold him.

//

Tony spends a lot of time after the night on the plane thinking about Misha’s words. Well. He thought about them plenty before, but now he can’t stop thinking about them. He wonders what the two words are. Who will say them to him. When they’ll say them.

He wonders if Misha is their soulmate too.

Misha doesn’t really hide the words, doesn’t go out of his way to cover them with a Words Shield, but Tony’s never tried to look at them. It just seems like it would be a bad idea to read the words of the person that’s better for Misha than he is.  

So he always talks himself out of it whenever he thinks about asking Misha about them.

Maybe they’ll send him back down soon before he lets his feelings get out of hand.

 

It’s the best and worst day when he’s called into Coop’s office and told that he can get an apartment.

//

“Hey, it’s the low rookie on the totem pole,” Misha teases when Tony walks into the locker room.

“I think we’re actually pretty even,” Tony replies, tossing a roll of stick tape at him. “You have to pick up pucks just the same as me.”

“I’m still at least half a season ahead of you.” He grins. It’s sort of the worst how it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you can’t buy your own drinks,” Tony shoots back. Misha’s laughing now.

Tony’s going to stop with the flirting soon, he really will. Just. Not yet.


	5. Misha

**_May 1, 2018_ **

 

They’re in the middle of their playoff run and Misha should really be concentrating on the games, but he just can’t stop thinking about Tony. How Misha is drawn to him, how he always wants to be around him.

It almost seems like he could be The One. And he’s to the point where he wonders if something he said is on Tony’s forearm and he didn’t respond. He knows that he was grumpy with Tony at the start of the season, but he doesn’t remember exactly what he said.

Not to mention the fact that he has no idea when Tony could have even said ‘good game’ to him.

He wants to ask Tony about both. And he doesn’t want to say anything at all, because how embarrassing.

So he comes up with the perfect plan of bouncing it off of Coby. He throws himself down into his stall. “I want it to be Tony.”

“So make it Tony,” Coby answers, thumbing at his phone. He doesn’t seem very interested in Misha’s crisis, but he’s the one who said Misha could come to him with anything, so he’s going to be helpful, for fuck’s sake.

“I just don’t know when he could have ever said good game to me,” Misha says, looking down at his words.

“Are you shitting me?” Misha looks up to see one of the black aces standing there looking all pissed off. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Misha squints at him. “Wait, who are you again?”

“Mathieu,” He huffs. “God, you really are a fucking idiot.” He rolls his eyes. “But I’m going to help you anyway. Memorial Cup, 2017? Ring a bell?”

“Um.”

He shakes his head as he stalks away, muttering under his breath in French.

“Well, guess you know now,” Coby says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m going to go see Slater,” he adds before he stands and walks out of the room.

Misha sits there for a minute, then scrambles for his phone. He looks up the 2017 Memorial Cup, blinking in surprise when he sees Tony in the handshake line. Misha presses play with a shaking hand.

He can hardly breathe while he waits for Tony to reach him. Tony makes it to him like an hour later and they shake hands before Tony pats him on the chest.

And says, “Good game.”

Misha can read it on his lips.

He can read it. It’s _right there_ in plain view.

Holy. Fuck.

Misha almost gets up and runs to find Tony, but then he remembers the bit about the playoffs and decides that maybe this is something that he shouldn’t really bring up until afterward. He really wants to, is so excited, but if he’s wrong again and gets his hopes up...if he brings it up just to have Tony tell him he’s wrong just like all the others did...well.

He just doesn’t want it to affect their play.

It can wait for now.

**//**

Misha slams his shoulder pads into his stall so hard that they bounce and hit the floor. He wants to scream, to pull out his hair and just yell. He can’t believe that they came all the way back to lose in game seven. That he’s going to have to go back and play in Worlds, to hear that Ovechkin bested him. He throws himself down, burying his face in his hands.

“Hey.” He peeks up through his fingers at Tony. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Tony says quietly after a minute.

“I didn’t score, and that one goal _was_ specifically my fault,” Misha replies with a little groan.

“No, it wasn’t.” Tony places a gentle hand on Misha’s shoulder. “You made so many good plays and you definitely prevented plenty of goals.” A little squeeze. “You did everything could, Misha.”

“We didn’t win, so that can’t be true.” Misha sniffles.

“We all failed, Misha.” Tony leans in. “But you know what?”

“What?”

Tony scoots even closer, brushes at Misha’s hair, pushing a few strands behind his ear with a shaking hand. “You’re perfect, okay?”

Misha sucks in a breath. “Tony, I--”

“No, you don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.” Tony lingers there for a couple seconds, gives a little nod. “I’ll see you in a couple days.”

And then Misha is sitting there watching him walk away.

 

  
  
The locker room is mostly cleared out when Misha finally decides to get in the shower. He honestly just wants to drown his sorrows, to stand there until the water runs cold.

Anything to avoid going home and admitting that the season is over.  

He reaches for the faucet, freezing when he sees his forearm.

_You’re perfect, okay_

Misha has never showered so quickly in his life.

 

  
  
Misha knocks on Tony’s door until it opens. Tony is stifling a yawn and Misha’s eyes are drawn straight to his Words Shield. “Misha? What are you doing here? No, wait. How did you get into the building without me ringing you in?”

“I gave a girl an autograph to let me in.” He strides past Tony. “I need to talk to you, can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure, make yourself at home,” Tony says, snapping the door closed. Misha starts pacing in front of Tony’s couch. He’s trying to decide what to say.

He didn’t exactly think this out.

“Okay, or do that. Can I get you something to drink, then? I have water and Gatorade.”

“Why do you wear a Words Shield?”  

“I already told you about this?” Tony frowns. “I know who it is and they don't want me, remember? Who wants that reminder?”

“What if the words have changed?”

“We both know my words won’t ever change,” Tony replies, bitter. “I just saw them a couple of hours ago. Still there.”

“No. That can’t be right, Tony. Your soulmate is the perfect person for you. They love you!” Misha stops. He can’t believe that he just blurted it out, but he knows that the words are true.

Tony, however, looks hurt.

No, he’s angry.

“Is that so? Wanna see what my soulmate thinks of me? What he said to me before he didn’t reply to what I said back?” Tony reaches for his Words Shield, ripping it free and shoving his arm at Misha. “Here you go.”

_They love you_

Misha sucks in a breath when he reaches for Tony’s arm. He runs a finger over the words, then shifts his eyes up to Tony’s. He grins. “I do, you know.”

“Do what?” Tony pulls his arm away and looks. His eyes are blown wide when he looks back up at Misha. “But I thought--”

“No, I love you,” Misha says before pulling Tony in. “Can I...?”

“Y-yeah,” Tony nods. Misha smiles into their kiss.   

 

  
Later, when they’re stripped down to their boxers, curled up in Tony’s bed and snuggled together, Misha admits, “I can’t believe that I don’t even remember when you said your first words to me.”

“Well, I’m sure that you had other things on your mind.” Tony smirks. “With the winning and all.”

“Yeah. It was all such a blur, but that isn’t really why. Do you have any idea how many guys in that line said good game to me?” Misha laughs. “Do you know how many have said it since I started playing hockey?”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Tony replies. He presses a lingering kiss to Misha’s forehead. “But that doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

“It sure doesn’t,” Misha admits with a sigh. He pulls Tony even closer, because there’s no such thing as too close when it comes to his soulmate.

His soulmate.

Huh.

He can get used to that.  

 

**_The next morning_ **

 

Tony is in the kitchen the making coffee when Misha sprints in.

“Oh, my god. I called you a bitch ass the first time I talked to you!”

Tony bursts into laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked it! ♥


End file.
